Lina shrugged. “No idea. Maybe he saw him by chance and trailed
him.”
“Without making his presence known?”
“Maybe he wanted to find out what Philip was doing when he was
standing his brother up.”
“He watches him at the concert with Franziska Leyhausen, follows
them into the woods, and then beats his brother to death? But why?”
“The way Philip treated him,” Lina said. “Maybe Thursday night
was the last straw.”
Max didn’t say anything. Seeing a parking spot in front of the
apartment house of Philip and Lukas’s parents, he took it and killed the motor.
All windows and doors were closed in the Birkner apartment
despite the warm and humid weather, and it felt hot and sticky inside.
Since the death of their son, Gisela and Klaus Birkner had visibly aged.
The man’s face was ashen and he was perspiring freely. His wife seemed worn out, as if she had lost at least ten pounds.
Lukas Birkner wasn’t with his parents and it turned out they didn’t
know he had beaten his wife so badly that she’d ended up in the hospital. They also didn’t know that he was barred from entering their home.
“That must be a misunderstanding,” Gisela Birkner said. She was
sitting on the sofa very straight, her hands nervously folded in her lap.
“Lukas would never hit a woman! He’s a good boy.” She started to cry.
Her husband sat next to her, staring at the floor.
“Do you have any idea where your son might be?” Max asked
gently.
The woman looked up. “But what do you want from him? He
hasn’t done anything. Why can’t you leave him alone? First Philip, and now . . . He loved his brother so much. They were inseparable, those two.”
303
Maria C. Poets
Klaus Birkner mumbled something. He cleared his throat, straight-
ened himself a few inches and tried again. “Hohwacht. He could be in Hohwacht.”
Lina and Max looked at each other. “In your vacation home?”
The man nodded.
“But, Klaus,” his wife said, “Lukas wouldn’t take a vacation
now . . . when Philip is dead, and we have to arrange everything, with the funeral and all the paperwork.” His wife’s scolding voice made
Klaus Birkner slump down again. “What do you really want from him?
You’ve already talked with him; he told me that. He’s told you everything.” Her voice had become shrill, almost hysterical.
Max smiled at the woman. “A few additional questions have come
up. Could you describe how to get to your house? And could we bor-
row the key?”
“But why do you want . . .” Frau Birkner began, but her husband
interrupted her.
“I’m coming with you,” he said.
“But, Klaus, you can’t go to Hohwacht now! It’s almost four and it
will take forever for you to come back home. Remember, your heart!”
Klaus Birkner patted his wife’s arm and got up. “Don’t worry, I’m
all right.” The drops of perspiration on his upper lip told a different story.
“Herr Birkner, it really isn’t necessary for you to come with us,”
Max said. Lina could see that he was torn. It was obvious that Herr
Birkner wanted to talk with them alone, but they didn’t know what was waiting for them in Hohwacht. It wasn’t a good idea for him to come.
“You can’t leave your wife alone now.”
Birkner seemed to sense their indecision. “If you don’t take me
along, I’ll drive there myself.” He looked at his wife. “My wife’s sister is on her way here.” Gisela Birkner had started to cry again. “She’s better with it anyhow . . . Consoling and so on.”
Max sighed.
304
Dead Woods
Lina looked at the figure slumping next to her on the backseat of the car. The sudden burst of energy he had shown upstairs a few minutes ago had dissipated. Klaus Birkner looked tired, but it wasn’t a short-term tiredness caused by recent events that overwhelmed and
exhausted him. It was a deeper fatigue, one that penetrated his very being, one that had grown over many years and had left deep wrinkles on his face. The car ran smoothly as they left the city against traffic, and the air conditioning kept the interior cool. Traffic was backing up on the incoming lane. Max had called Hanno before they left, asking him to arrange for the local police in Hohwacht to keep the house under
inconspicuous surveillance. Sitting in his little garden, Hanno cursed them for begrudging him—that was his term for being disturbed—a
quiet Sunday.
Klaus Birkner had heard part of the conversation but didn’t react.
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
“Tell me about Philip, about Philip and Lukas,” Lina said in a low
voice.
Nothing happened for quite some time, but eventually the man